


bright morning

by opalitegalaxy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 22:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalitegalaxy/pseuds/opalitegalaxy
Summary: The space beside him was empty now though, the sheets cold from the abscence of a warm body. Armin sighed, settling back onto the mattress and throwing an arm over his eyes, blocking out the invasive morning light and fully allowing himself to drown in the crushing wave of self-pity.He couldn't help feeling disappointed, but at the same time, he wasn't surprised. Of course you'd leave; it was a drunken mistake, a union that never should've happened, an encounter fuelled not by genuine feelings but cheap vodka and poor judgement.





	bright morning

**Author's Note:**

> its been over a month since my last fic, whoa!  
> anywhoo, i am loving s3 part 2! since i am a dub only (hate all you want! i love matthew mercer and j michael tatum and bryce papenbrook ok) i'm only upto ep 55, but i felt compelled to write for armin because my god, -that- scene murdered me. i'm a manga reader so i knew it was coming but to have it animated, good god.  
> so here's some fluffy armin to make up for it!

White light, piercing and blinding and burning his tired eyes.  
  
Armin groaned, turning his back to the window and pulling the comforter over his head, cursing his inebriated self for not bothering to close the blinds. His dry mouth and tenderly throbbing head were an uncomfortable reminder as to why he didn't drink very often - or rather, why he didn't drink in the presence of Eren, the man who drank with reckless abandon with full knowledge he'd wake up in the morning feeling nothing more than a mild craving for junk food.  
  
_That twelfth shot of Fireball was a bad idea. Beyond a bad idea._  
  
The memories were fragmented. He recalled starting the evening in some quiet hipster bar with a live band, making his one light beer last fourty minutes, and ending it in the middle of a wildly dancing crowd of strangers, a pulsing beat rattling his chest and Eren pressed tightly into his back.  
  
He shot up, instantly regretting it when the sudden movement churned his guts even more than the stale alcohol and influx of memories combined.  
  
You and him, squished together in the back of a cab, giggling at nothing and fighting over the last slice of pizza.  
  
He'd taken you home.  
  
The space beside him was empty now though, the sheets cold from the abscence of a warm body. Armin sighed, settling back onto the mattress and throwing an arm over his eyes, blocking out the invasive morning light and fully allowing himself to drown in the crushing wave of self-pity.  
  
He couldn't help feeling disappointed, but at the same time, he wasn't surprised. Of course you'd leave; it was a drunken mistake, a union that never should've happened, an encounter fuelled not by genuine feelings but cheap vodka and poor judgement. It was fun for the moment, but was it worth the strained friendship and awkward half-conversations for months on end until it slipped from collective memory? No, it wasn't. Yet another reason why he didn't like to drink.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
The echoing clatter of several pans hitting the floor yanked him back from the threshold of sleep, bolt upright and nauseous for the second time that morning. Through the brain-fog of a hangover, Armin was hyperaware of two things - he lived alone, and did not recall locking the door before turning in for the night.  
  
"Shit, shit, shit-- shhh!"  
  
The feminine voice, followed by the roaring of an all-too-familiar ringtone, assuaged his fear and piqued his curiosity instead. Scrambling for some sweatpants to cover his shame - only just aware of his nakedness and the mess of purple-red bruises littering his chest - he was on his feet and through the door, greeted by the scent of coffee and a fresh breeze rolling through the apartment, loosening the shackles of exhaustion.  
  
"Eren, I promise I will tell you everything later, I'm just a little busy right now."  
  
_"Why can't you tell me now? C'mon!"_  
  
"Why should I even tell you anything at all? Since when has my sex life been an interest of yours?"  
  
_"Since it involved my best friend, that's when!"_  
  
To his relief, there was no armed burglar making off with his embarrassingly expensive PC, just you rifling through his fridge, happily making yourself at home. Hands full, you turned to close the door with your elbow, paling and almost dropping the carton of eggs when it revealed Armin lingering at the threshold, expression somewhere in the realm of amusement and confusion.  
  
"Uh... gotta go."  
  
_"Wait, at least tell me if it was good or not-!"_  
  
You rushed to dump the armful of ingredients on the counter and hang up before he could listen in on Eren's painfully loud babbling.  
  
"Sorry. Did I wake you?"  
  
"I was mostly awake already."  
  
You nodded, looking from the items you'd helped yourself to and back to the puzzled blonde, grinning crookedly. "Hope you don't mind. I wanted to surprise you, bring you breakfast in bed. An omlette and some coffee, my personal miracle cure for a hangover."  
  
"I don't mind, but uh..." Armin coughed, disturbed by the new possibility of being the only one to remember the previous nights events; sickened by the idea that he'd taken advantage somehow. "What about..." He trailed off, eyes elsewhere, hoping you'd pick up the pieces yourself.  
  
"Last night? What about it?" The smile morphed into one of mirth, the frigid atmosphere melting in the blink of an eye and leaving him suspended in a different kind of awkwardness. "Do I remember it? Yes, I do. And I don't regret it."  
  
Suddenly the weight pulling his shoulders down was dissipated. The claw marks on his back and sensation of soft thighs tight around his waist and unique taste of you burning his tongue - free from the taint of anxiety. The memory was no longer condemned to the darkened corner of his mind to be suppressed and forgotten, but clung to on the cold nights when his bed felt just a little too big.  
  
"You're sweet, Armin. I like being around you. And if it's all the same to you, I'd like to repeat it sometime," you smirked, the surge of confidence brought on by the flush of rose-red colouring his pale skin daring you to close the gap between you and him; up on your tiptoes, noses touching. "When we're in a state of mind to properly coordinate things, of course."  
  
Armin spluttered, his usual eloquence stolen away by the emergence of his new-found monkey brain that cared less for fancy words and long-winded confessions of love, more for his base animal desires. "Uh... yeah! Yeah. I'd like that. A lot."  
  
"Okay. Good." You moved in for a single kiss, his lips immediately receptive, just as soft as you remembered, and Armin couldn't stop the barely perceptible whine when you pulled away, setting to work arranging breakfast. "Now sit. You're gonna need your energy."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Eren wants to meet for coffee later." You tossed a dirty grin over your shoulder and it only stretched wider as he groaned, loudly, dropping his head into hands in defeat. "He has questions. Lots of them."


End file.
